Star Wars: Avatar of the Force
by Malcolm T. Dugat
Summary: 1000 years after KotOR I and II, bounty hunter Adran Quelgana is given a target, not realizing this target is a powerful Sith. Not only will taking out this target satisfy Adran's personal desires, but it could also save the galaxy.


**One**

"I'm sorry, sir, but Mr. Fenx is currently unavailable. Is there anything else I can do for you today?"

Adran Quelgana leaned forwards on the reception desk. "Tell him Adran is asking for his presence. He'll answer, trust me."

The protocol droid turned around and spoke into the communications console behind the desk. "Mr. Fenx, Adran requests your presence." There was a slight pause, then the droids mechanical voice, "Yes, master." The droid turned back to Adran. "I'm sorry, sir, but Mr. Fenx says that he is too busy to receive you at this time and you may come back at a later date. Is there anything else I can do for you today?"

Adran stood up as straight as he could. He walked behind the desk and advanced towards the console.

"Sir, you are not allowed back here!" the droid stated in alarm.

"Shut up," snapped Adran. He wasn't going to let Nero keep ignoring the fact that Adran needed his payments and that he needed them now.

He uploaded a map of the facility onto his datapad, and turned to the droid. "Tell Nero that he's going to receive a visitor soon."

The droid's processes must have been going under the human equivalent of a mental breakdown. It looked at Adran, then at the console, then back at Adran. "Yes, sir." As Adran marched down a hallway, the droid turned to the console. "Mr. Fenx, you are about to receive a visitor… no, it was not scheduled, sir… yes, sir, Adran is no longer in the reception area…"

There was an explosion as the console received a power overload from a nearby terminal, and both the console and the droid were no longer there.

Adran checked the map on his datapad. He looked at the door ahead of him. _This should be it_, he thought. He pressed the 'open' choice on the door's tiny console. A red light flashed at him; the door was locked.

Adran drew his blaster and shot the console. The mechanical door slid open, smoking. Adran holstered his blaster and stormed into the room.

An overdressed male Twi'lek sat behind a desk with a built-in computer terminal. As Adran entered the room, the Twi'lek looked up and smiled broadly. "Ah, Adran, long time no see, eh? As much as I enjoy seeing you again, I don't recall you ever being on the list of scheduled appointments, hmm? So tell me, what are you doing here?"

"Stow it, Nero, you know you haven't paid me in months. I've come to collect on my bounties."

Nero was on his feet in an instant, his cool demeanor lost. "That's Mr. Fenx to you, Adran Quelgana," he snapped. The Twi'lek took a sharp intake of breath, and slid back into his chair, slowly exhaling, slowly regaining his former composition. "Yes, the bounties… You will be paid for your efforts, yes, but I can't help but wonder where these bounties you speak of are currently located?"

Adran resisted the urge to shout. "You know our agreement, _Mr._ Fenx. I turned them in to local authorities."

Nero looked at Adran with expectation. "You realize you get paid more for turning the bounties in to _me_, correct?"

"Yes, and I also know that justice would not be done if I handed them in to you."

Nero laughed. "Justice, Adran? You should know that justice is never truly done to those who deserve it. They either don't get what they deserve or they get too much. If you had handed those bounties in to me, I would've given them exactly what they deserved."

"That's not justice, Fenx, that's revenge."

Nero flinched. After heaving a sigh, the Twi'lek said, "Fine, Adran, have it your way. Allow me to pull up what I can now." Nero Fenx went about using the terminal in front of him, then looked back up at Adran. "I also have some new jobs for you, if you like."

Adran eased slightly, and took out his datapad. "Let's hear the legit ones."

Nero raised his eyebrows in disappointment. "All right, Adran, here they are: There's a wanted criminal loose here on Nar Shaddaa. He's got a two thousand credit price on his head; he's murdered seven jail guards and three civilians. He's a Rodian by the name of Dornak Treenoo. He was heavily armed but not very heavily armored, last time a witness saw him. He used to be a client of mine, but got caught in the middle of a crucial operation. If you return him to me, there would be an extra one thousand credit bonus and…"

"… and you would torture him in all of the worst ways that you can think of and enslave his family to pay off his debts and in turn enslave all of their children and eventually kill him, right?"

Nero looked at Adran with a clearly annoyed expression. "I wouldn't put it so harshly…"

"You know I don't hand bounties in to you, Nero. Nothing's going to change that."

The Twi'lek glared at Adran with fury. "Just because you're the best bounty hunter I have, doesn't give you the right to treat me with such disrespect."

"I call everyone by their first names. I consider it common courtesy. Of course, I could just not use names at all and use names that I think appropriate, like…"

"Another bounty that came in just a few hours ago was a report of an assassination attempt against a local government member of Dantooine. It's nothing really big or important; there isn't even a listed price, but I'm sure that you could get some credits from such an endeavor."

Adran looked up from his datapad expectantly. "Is there any information on this person?"

"No, there are no descriptions, no records, no information, nothing. It just says here, 'Mysterious person assassinates a member of Onderonian local government. Cause of death unknown.' There aren't any other jobs here on my list that would catch your interest; however, there are plenty that are only…"

Adran put his datapad away. "No, Nero. I only take the wholly legit jobs. Now, those credits…"

Nero Fenx produced several credit chips from the folds of his purple robes. "Here you are; twenty six thousand credits as promised." He held them out to Adran.

Adran looked at Nero. "I think you owe me more for being so late with your payments. After all, you punish your inferiors for being late with their payments."

Nero scowled. He pulled out another chip, and said, "Twenty eight thousand credits."

"Make it thirty."

"Twenty nine."

"Done."

The green Twi'lek gave Adran two additional credit chips. "Now leave," he ordered. "I hope I don't see you again for a long time."

Adran pocketed the credits. "Don't worry," he answered smoothly. "I don't plan on anything like this happening again."

**Onderon**

Two Onderonian military guards used to stand in front of the entrance to Iziz Spaceport AD Tower #26. They lay dead in the dark night, with no apparent cause. Through the entrance, the computer terminal in the center of the room was occupied by a dark robed figure.

The figure held something in the folds of his robes, and held his free hand over the console. As if by its own accord, the terminal was doing several different checks on the local security system, the local power grid, and the docking bays. The figure wore a hood up, covering most of his face. Throughout the sector of the city, certain complexes and buildings lost power, defense turrets fired at random targets, and the shields to the docking bays were unexpectedly lifted.

The robed man turned and hurried towards the nearest docking bay. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn't be able to even enter a spacecraft to leave the planet. However, due to the good timing of recent malfunctions throughout this sector of Iziz, he would be able to leave with little resistance.

At the gates to what was labeled as _Sector 3 Docking Bay 4_, the man paused and peered around the corner into the large room. There was a single Corellian Class U-Wing personal transport docked, and it seemed unused. However, there was a group of about half a dozen militia troopers surrounding it. So it had some importance. The man looked back from where he came from. If he was to leave, it was to be on that ship.

He came around the corner and advanced towards the group of soldiers. One noticed him. "You!" the man shouted. "Who gave you permission to be here?"

The robed figure shot out his hand, and the man flew backwards as if hit by a land speeder. The other men lifted their blaster rifles and fired on the intruder. There was a hiss of energy, a hum, a red blur, several more small hisses of energy, and the rest of the soldiers fell. The robed figure stood alone, a red lightsaber in his hand. He gazed at the men lying on the floor, and he noticed one still had life. He deactivated his lightsaber, placing it deep within the folds of his robes, and held his hand out towards the man. He lifted him, screaming, into the air with the Force, and hurled him against the wall with enough force to leave cracks.

The Sith assassin advanced towards the U-Wing transport. He walked up the extended boarding ramp and into the cockpit. He started the engines, and prepared the ship for inter-stellar travel. Sitting back in his seat, he held the controls in a firm grip as he flew through the night sky. The journey to his destination would take a long time with the weak hyperdrive the ship possessed, but it was time he had to spare. After all, he had the holocron now.

The assassin reached into the folds of his robes and drew out an old-looking Sith Holocron. He gazed at its intricate design with hungry, yellow eyes. A small smile revealed near perfect teeth. "What secrets do you hold?" the Sith wondered aloud. After a few silent moments, the assassin activated the communications console. He set up a holo-link, and the hologram of another robed figure showed up on the platform in front of him.

"Lord Iphazer, I have the holocron. No one knows anything about it; all witnesses were slain."

An ancient, gravelly voice came from the holocron in front of him. "Show it to me."

The Sith assassin held the holocron for his master to see. "Ah, yes, one of the ancient holocrons made by one of the most powerful Sith Lords to wander the galaxy a millennium ago, Darth Nihilus."

The assassin nodded. "It was in the care of a Historian on Onderon, who also held some rank in the local government. I disposed of him to obtain it and make sure that there were absolutely no witnesses."

The hologram of Iphazer crossed his arms. "Killing this man may have attracted unwanted attention, Batul. Was it completely necessary?"

Batul nodded gravely. "In order to obtain the holocron, I had to pry it from his dead hands."

"I see. Yet the fact still remains that there is a chance that you will be discovered. I want you to return to Korriban immediately. There is much to learn from this holocron that only I can decipher."

Batul observed his navicomputer. "My Lord, I cannot go directly to Korriban in the spacecraft I have obtained. I will have to travel to a nearby planet and acquire a new vessel."

"See to it that you do. I do not want this holocron falling in the wrong hands."

"Do not worry, Master Iphazer, I will not fail you."

The hologram on the platform walked out of sight, and Batul deactivated the link. He examined the navicomputer closely. It only held certain programmed destinations, and Korriban wasn't one of them. Batul could not program in this destination, for changing the navicomputer settings required a voice print ID. Batul looked at his options.

According to the navicomputer, the closest planet he could travel to that was closest to Korriban was Dantooine.

_If I were to travel to Dantooine, I would have to tread lightly, for there are rumors that the ancient Jedi Enclave there has been rebuilt, _thought Batul. He did not want to have to deal with any Jedi any time soon. They seemed to be at an age in time where they thrived; little did they know what the remaining Sith had been planning for centuries.

As the Jedi had rebuilt over the centuries since the Old Sith Wars, so had the Sith. Though there numbers were few, they had a great deal of power on their side from the knowledge they had gathered from ancient holocrons. The one that Batul carried could be just what the Sith needed.

Batul set Dantooine as his destination. He had no other choice. If any Jedi attempted to cross him, he would destroy them. He had trained long and hard under the ancient Sith holocron of Freedon Nadd, mastering lightsaber combat and manipulating the minds and bodies of his enemies. He believed firmly that he was no match for any Jedi, a belief which had not been tested for quite some time.

The U-Wing transport jumped into hyperspace. Batul left the cockpit, knowing that the ships autopilot would take care of the journey. He went to the starboard dormitory and meditated, preparing his mind and body for whatever incident he might encounter.

**Nar Shaddaa**

Adran walked away from a Nar Shaddaa security station two thousand credits richer than he used to be. The Rodian proved to be no challenge whatsoever; he seemed particularly vulnerable to stunning blaster shots.

Adran looked at his datapad. The only bounty that remained involved the Onderonian assassination. Adran frowned. He didn't like the sound of this at all. An assassin kills an Onderonian government member in an unknown way and no one knows a thing. The assassin was either exceedingly lucky or exceedingly skilled. Either way, Adran felt like capturing this assassin was going to be difficult. He hoped that this job was worth the trouble; even with all of the credits Adran had obtained that day, he still had a couple more debts he had to pay off.

Adran took his time as he walked towards the nearest cantina. He felt like he needed a nice chilled cup of Juma Juice.

Adran walked through the entranceway to the Zestful Rancor. It was a popular cantina around the area, for it surrounded a giant pit where one could watch and bet on fighting rancor matches. It was also well known for its different mixes of exotic drinks and alcohols, and had a large arrangement of rooms available for those who felt the need to spend a night or two. Adran had never felt such a need; he couldn't imagine trying to sleep in such a festering slime pit.

It was obvious that the basic laws of society didn't apply here. Drunks meandered around like gizka, there was more than one fight occurring, and Adran noticed several underhanded moves at the pazaak tables. Adran walked straight towards the bar table, knowing that if he veered even slightly from his course, there would most likely be unwanted trouble.

The bartender looked up at Adran. His nose was broken in a couple of places, and there were a few scars that Adran assumed came from barfights. "Whaddilit be today, sur?"

Adran pulled a metal cup from a pouch on his belt. "Juma juice in here, please."

The bartender took the cup and turned around, filling it with the juice. He turned back and gave the cup to Adran. "Thank you," said Adran, placing a five credit chip on the counter top. He turned around and ran a hand through his mid-length graying hair. Looking around, Adran realized that he was being stared at by a small group of thugs. He looked away, sipping from his cup of Juma Juice. Adran placed the cup on the countertop, and wiped some of the liquid from his short beard and mustache. He reached into the holster under his brown jacket and set the blaster to stun. He grabbed another five credits from the inside pocket of his jacket, and placed it on the counter.

"Consider this an apology in advance."

He turned around and walked towards the continuous, circular plexiglass window overlooking the rancor pit. There were two rancors fighting; one with a blue mark on its hide, another with a red mark. He turned to a bald man next to him. "A hundred credits the blue marked one will win."

The man shook his head. "I know it will. It has the obvious advantage."

"Really? But it seems smaller than the red marked rancor."

The man pointed at the blue rancor's claws. "I can see from here that those claws have been sharpened and poisoned. It's been made to win."

Adran handed the man a hundred credits. "You're good. Looks like you could use something to drink…"

"You know I don't drink, Adran."

Adran shrugged. "I thought it might make good cover."

The man chuckled. "No one cares about other people's business on Nar Shaddaa, Adran. If you were to try and pull this off on say, Alderaan, then yes, I probably would need something to drink."

Adran nodded. "Did you get my transmission?"

"Yes, and I did some research into the subject."

"What did you find?"

The pulled a datapad from his full length gray jacket. "I couldn't figure out what position the man held in the Onderonian government, but I do know that his name was Jeran, and he was also the Head Historian, the man in charge of safekeeping a variety of ancient relics in the Onderonian Historical Vault. His body was found dead in the vault, and recent checks have determined that the man died from suffocation."

Adran furrowed his eyebrows. "Strangled?"

"No, there were no marks around his neck. It's as if he just stopped breathing and fell over dead. But security cameras picked up a black robed figure leaving the building at around the time the murder took place."

Adran took the datapad from the man and began to transfer its contents into his. "Perhaps this wasn't a true assassination, but a case of theft, and Jeran was in the way."

The man nodded. "That's a possibility. However, just later there was a huge power fluctuation throughout that sector of the city. Such a fluctuation could only be made by someone with access to local power grids. Investigators found that the source of these fluctuations came from the computer terminal of a major AD tower in the city near the docking bay. The guards were dead, suffocated."

Adran looked up. "Same way as Jeran."

"Yes. The nearest docking bay was found with six dead guards, with one guard found on the planet's surface far below the docking bay. The guards in the bay all had a single blaster wound, and one was found beneath an enormous man sized crack in the wall."

Adrans eyes widened. "Thrown against the wall with massive force?"

The man shrugged. "That's the only explanation. So not only is this person dress in all black, but likes to choke people somehow, has incredible blaster skills, and has incredible strength. The one body found below the bay must've been thrown out, as well, and died from the long fall to the planet surface. The docking bay was supposed to hold a transport, but the assassin must have stolen it his escape."

"Did you find a price?"

"No, but I'm guessing that the government there would give you around ten thousand credits for all of the trouble this person has caused."

Adran couldn't believe his ears. Ten thousand credits! That was enough to pay off the last of his debts and have a couple thousand left! Keeping his newfound excitement under check, he asked, "Was anything missing from the vault?"

"A holocron. Information on that was completely and utterly top secret, so I could find nothing on whose holocron it was."

Adran finished the information transfer and gave the man the datapad. "Thanks again. Do I get to know your name yet?"

The man chuckled. "No, no, no. That would ruin my reputation as the Unknown Slicer. If someone knew my name, no one would call me the Unknown Slicer anymore. I wouldn't see myself in the news the same way again. I appreciate being able to foil absolutely everybody and keep such a nice alibi. I didn't even think of it; it was given to me by the reporters, and it stuck. It's pretty catchy, don't you think?"

Adran put his datapad into his belt pouch. "I suppose so. I'll just have to keep calling you Slicer, then."

Slicer gave Adran a mock look of pleading. "Oh, but Unknown Slicer is so much more sinister!"

Adran patted Slicer on the shoulder. "Oh well," he said.

Slicer looked behind Adran. "Well, I'm getting out of here; it seems that you have company."

Adran turned around as Slicer seemed to vanish into thin air. The thugs were approaching. Adran leaned against the railing ringing around the plexiglass. "Can I help you?" he asked casually.

The head thug was a Devaronian with wicked looking knives at his sides. The rest were Rodians, each wielding blaster rifles. The Devaronian looked Adran up and down. "You don't look like you're made of much," he said gruffly. "How'd you manage to take out Dornak without getting so much as a scratch?"

"Why do you care?"

"We worked for Dornak. He gave us work, even during his small period of time in jail. When he escaped, we flourished. Now you've put us all out of work. Dornak paid us like no one else would. Now that he's no longer in the picture, we can't do anything."

Adran put his hands in his pockets, his right hand closing around a concussion grenade. "There are other jobs. Besides, if Dornak wasn't so weak he wouldn't have gotten himself in the situation that he got himself in. Mercs like you should know to work for the strongest employer."

The Devaronian shook. "Dornak was strong!" he growled.

Adran shook his head. "Not if he couldn't take me."

The knives at the Devaronians side were in his hand. An instant later, there was an explosion and the sound of dozens of blaster shots going off at once. Then silence.

The smoke from the blast cleared. Adran was on his feet with a blaster in his left hand, and the corpses of a Devaronian and a few other Rodians lay before him. The entire cantina looked at Adran, and then returned to attend to their business again.

Adran holstered his blaster and examined the Devaronian corpse. He took what credits he could scrounge up and placed them on the countertop of the bar. "Extra apologies from that one," he said, and left the Zestful Rancor cantina.

Adran walked towards the docking platform where his ship was docked. He wondered about his newest target. A mysterious, strong, sharp shooter who excelled in stealth. It sounded like a target worth Adrans skills. And ten thousand credits! Adran felt like he could finally travel the galaxy on his ship, explore, take in as much as he could while he still lived. He felt like he had much to learn.

What he would do, he was uncertain. Being a bounty hunter was an excellent way to make money, but once Adran paid off his debts, all he needed was a smallish, constant supply of credits. Adran was tired of fighting. He longed to be able to live alone with his ship, and be able to do what he wanted to do, not what he was good at doing.

But what did he want to do? What did he love doing that could get him a constant supply of credits? All he knew how to do was hunt, and while it made good money, he couldn't go where he wanted to and he didn't enjoy doing it at all. Hunting was all he really knew; he had started hunting small wilderness beasts when he was seven. Adran was good at getting places fast; he could be a racer and travel the galaxy that way. It was promising, but Adran decided to focus on what was going to happen immediately. He had to find and take down the assassin. He had a feeling that if he didn't, the assassin would take down him. He realized that this could be the most difficult job he had ever been given. It could be the last, as well, whether he succeeded or failed.

Adran stopped in front of a security door. He pushed a button on the console, and a message came up in front of him. ENTER VOICE ID.

"Adran Quelgana, voiceprint ID one nine nine three two zero zero eight.

ACCESSING… SENDING ID TO SECURITY… PERMISSION TO LEAVE NAR SHADDAA GRANTED.

The door lifted, and Adran walked through. After walking down a long hallway, Adran began walking down an extended platform reaching over the depths of Nar Shaddaa. At the end of the platform was his ship.

It was a _Dynamic_-class freighter, and a pretty old one at that. Companies stopped making ships like that centuries ago, but this one seemed in good shape. Adran had bought it from a strange blue humanoid with glowing red eyes and only spoke Minnisiat, a trade language known to few. He claimed to have found it floating empty through space near his homeworld, and he salvaged it. The blue person seemed desperate to get it off of his hands, and gave it to Adran for a very low cost.

Adran had flown around the galaxy with it ever since. He had grown a large attachment to it, and took care of it like he would a child. He called it Oria.

Adran walked up the extended boarding platform. As soon as he boarded Oria, the boarding platform closed behind him. He had gotten used to that; the ship did it every time he walked onboard and didn't plan on getting back off.

He walked though his empty garage on the ship and walked through the main hold and towards the cockpit. As he walked down the short, round hallway, he could hear the ship preparing to launch. As he entered the cockpit, he said aloud, "Where do you think you're going? I haven't even put in a destination yet."

The ship seemed to stop for a moment, as if expecting something. Adran looked at the ships navicomputer. He entered Onderon on the Galaxy Map. The ship continued to prepare for launch, though no one was in the pilot's seat.

Adran sat back in the empty seat. He looked over at the empty copilot seat, then set about getting ready to steer the ship through the tall city of Nar Shaddaa. He knew he didn't have to do anything, but it gave him a sense of doing something.

After a slightly rocky start, the ship floated into the air and flew through the night sky and burst through the atmosphere of the planet. Adran sat back and let the ship take over. It knew the coordinates of Onderon; it seemed to have known them for a long time. Though the ship was old, it had an extremely powerful hyperdrive. Journeys as long as these became considerably shorter than usual. Though Adran wanted to take his time in his journey, he knew he needed to hurry if he was to catch the assassin.

"Can you put all the power you can into the hyperdrive systems? We need to make the journey quickly," Adran seemed to say to no one.

Adran heard the hum of the hyperdrive get louder. He watched the stars in front of him become lines, then the bluish cylinder of hyperspace filled his vision. Adran gazed into the dark hole at the end of the cylinder, always there, never getting any closer. He would arrive there eventually. The hum of the hyperdrive calmed Adran, and he began to doze off. Within minutes of entering hyperspace, Adran had fallen asleep in the cockpit.

Adran was standing in space. More, he was standing above the galaxy in which all known life existed. The entire galaxy was at his feet, and he could see it all, the entire thing. Every incident happening at that very moment was shown in his eyes. It was hard to see it all there was so many events. Adran tried to focus on one planet. He searched through the jumbled chaos of the galaxy for something solid to grasp on to, something that he could make sense of.

As he searched, he flew downwards and into the galaxy, seemingly physically searching for something to grasp. He flew by planets like a blaster bolt past a human, looking for something, not knowing what. He flew by several spacecraft and more suns, never stopping. At last, it seemed that he was near what he was looking for. He stopped, and he pulled up in front of the planet Onderon.

He felt something wrong on the surface, so he flew in through the atmosphere of the planet and to the city of Iziz. Indeed, he saw several dead guards lying in a hangar bay with a U-Wing transport flying out. Adran followed the ship back through the atmosphere, through hyperspace, and into close proximity of another planet. Adran didn't recognize it at first, but then felt a familiar presence. It had to be Dantooine, it was the only place where such a person would be.

He followed the ship down to the surface of Dantooine. It didn't land in any spaceports; rather, it landed far away from the nearest city. Adran walked towards the ships boarding platform as it opened. He looked up at who it was who was walking down the ramp. He saw a dark robed figure with something held under its many folds. It looked around, then swiftly left the ship and hurried towards Adran. The strange person seemed to pass right through Adran. As he passed through Adran, he dropped to one knee and dropped what he was holding in his robes. A pyramidal shape tumbled out, and the person looked around frantically. He hurried to pick up the thing and stumbled away, taking a faster pace.

Adran realized it was a holocron.

He sat bolt upright in his seat. He heard the ancient lights and consoles turn on in the medlab. Adran went to the navicomputer and began to reprogram it. "Don't worry, I'm fine. Just had… a dream."

The power in the medlab deactivated. The ship exited hyperspace on its own accord, no planetary body in sight. Adran programmed Dantooine as the new destination, and the ship re-entered hyperspace. He walked briskly through the main hold, past the medlab, and into the cargo hold. He searched through the storage cylinders and lockers for all of the best weapons he had that he could carry with him. He figured he would need all he could get for the upcoming encounter.


End file.
